


I am the one you wouldn't wait for

by Polyhexian



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Post canon, Sex Work, Xenobiology, descriptions of sexual trauma, lost light timeline, third person, whirl is a huge jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23980216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian
Summary: Whirl is an obnoxious git and always has been, but Drift isn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's actually annoyed him.
Relationships: Whirl & Drift
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57





	I am the one you wouldn't wait for

Whirl lay on the floor in front of the doors to Swerve's, clearly drunk already, though Drift had no idea how he'd managed that when the bar was locked. He certainly didn't seem to have anything on him he might have pregamed with, but Drift supposed that was just going to have to remain one of Whirl's many mysteries. 

"Come on, Whirl, up with you. You know Swerve doesn't open for another shift."

"I ain't hurtin' no one," he slurred, tilting his helm toward the third in command with a snap of disdain, "'M just waitin'."

"You can't wait here. You're blocking the hallway."

"Take that complaint up with Primus then, auraboy, I can't help I got limbs for days," he spat, letting his helm fall back against the doorframe with an audible thunk that made Drift cringe inwardly. 

"You have plenty of room in your habsuite to sleep. Swerve will ping you when he opens," Drift continued, unabated. 

"Oh," Whirl cooed, rolling his optic light in it's casing, "are you bringing me back to my room then? Without even buying me dinner first? Maybe you can teach me some fun buymech tricks, huh?"

Drift twitched, his servo tightening on the hilt of his sword where it tested, unable to restrain himself from showing how clearly the remark had gotten to him. Whirl snapped his head back again and laughed so hard his vocalizer shorted, which seemed to annoy him.

Drift grimaced and took in a deep vent, trying to push the comment out of his mind. Whirl was being cruel for the sake of it. He was a particularly chaotic member of the crew, prone to being self-destructive when he was in a good mood and regular destructive when he was in a bad one, but Drift knew better than to take it personally. Far better mech's than Whirl had insulted him in the past. 

"You are externalizing your frustration," Drift said dryly, stepping forward to grab the larger mech beneath the shoulders and hoist him up, "and putting down those around you will not raise you up any higher."

"Yeah, well," Whirl mumbled as his voicebox reset, sounding frustrated he hadn't gotten much more of a reaction, though he let Drift shove him to his feet anyway, "Maybe if I bring y'all down to my level I can-" he stopped, voicebox whining in thought as he seemed to lose track of his thought, "I dunno."

"Time for recharge," Drift said simply, as he got Whirl shakily back to his pedes, "Sleep it off, Whirl."

"Sleep yourself off," Whirl snapped, though it lacked the bite from his previous comment. 

Drift shook his head as Whirl wobbled off through the corridors, in the general direction of his living space. At least he wasn't in a shooty mood today.

* * *

Coming back to the Lost Light was strange for a lot of reasons, not least of all that he was no longer in a command position, and only there as a normal crewmate. Even though he had now been away from the ship for significantly longer than he had ever been on it, even though he had left in shame, people still regarded him as if he held any authority here. It was bizarre, the way people seemed to awkwardly watch his reactions to see if he was going to call them out on their near constant rulebreaking, like they weren't entirely sure what to do around him anymore.

Whirl was collapsed on the floor in front of the bar again, legs splayed out far enough to touch the opposite wall. The doors were clearly locked, but Drift knew for certain this time that Swerve's was open. 

"Why don't you go in?" Drift inquired curiously, as he stepped over Whirl's midsection to the opposite side of the hallway.

"Locked me out for breakin' chairs," Whirl said without onlining his optic, succinctly. 

"That's too bad," Drift commented, and started to leave. 

"Not even gonna try to kick me out?" Whirl asked, tilting his head up. He sounded annoyed. 

"No," Drift said, pausing to turn back around, "you can stay there if you want."

"Well. Good. Cuz I wanna," Whirl snapped, dropping his helm again, "unless you wanna take me up on those buymech tricks, eh?"

Drift flattened his lips but otherwise didn't feel particularly incensed. Whirl had long since lost the ability to rile him up, which seemed to infuriate him.

"I can't help you," Drift said, shaking his helm as he turned away.

"As if anyone could!" Whirl laughed maniacally, as if that were a joke, and Drift left him where he was.

* * *

"And you know at that point, I totally figured we were going to have our second dead Rewind, and God, what a track record that would be, huh? So, then-"

"What is going on with _them_?" Drift interrupted, nodding to where Whirl was collapsed on a table by the bar, while Cylconus and Tailgate stood nearby, seemingly trying and failing to get his attention.

Rodimus stalled on thought, turned to follow Drift's optics and quickly turned back with a sigh, "Ugh. They've been weird as the pit. Like, I guess Cyclonus and Tailgate _finally_ tied the damn knot, but I legitimately can _not_ tell you what their deal with Whirl is."

"Hm," Drift hummed in thought, sipping his cocktail. Cyclonus put one clawed servo on Whirl's shoulder, only to be shaken off immediately. "He doesn't seem to want their attention."

"Which isn't normal, but, when is Whirl _ever_ normal," Rodimus mused, chewing on a straw, "Sometimes I think they want to date him, sometimes I think they want to adopt him. Sometimes I think they want to kill him. He's always following Cyclonus around like a lost puppy. Like a rabid lost puppy with guns on his chest."

"Strange," Drift commented, frowning. "It's strange how different some things are, and how something's haven't changed at all."

"I can only imagine. Gotta say that Whirls been less of a pain than he was before you left at least. He's still a complete nuisance, but he seems to at least give a scrsp about not _completely_ ruining everyone else's day anymore."

"That's good to- hang on," Drift started, straightening up when Cyclonus turned sharply and headed straight for them. Drift quickly rewound the conversation he'd been having in his mind for anything they'd said that could have been particularly offensive 

"Rodimus," Cyclonus started as he snapped to attention in front of their table, as short and formal as always, "You need to order Whirl to medical bay immediately."

"What?" Rodimus stammered, blinking, "Why?"

"He's having a medical emergency," Cyclonus stated.

"Uh," Rodimus said, leaning over to look at Whirl again, who was still collapsed on the table while Tailgate stood nearby, fretting. "What kind of emergency?" 

"Irrelevant," Cyclonus said, which made Rodimus balk in confusion.

"It seems somewhat relevant," Drift commented.

"Whirl!" Rodimus called across the room, and Whirl lifted his optic off the table to turn and stare at him sideways. "Are you okay?" 

"Fuck you," said Whirl, putting his head back down.

"He seems fine to me," Rodimus said, turning back to Cyclonus. 

"I assure you, he is _not._ " 

"I can't just _order_ him to go if he doesn't _want_ to," Rodimus argued, and Cyclonus scowled somewhat deeper than normal, turning sharply and returning to where Whirl was laying half on the table.

"That was strange," Drift said, watching them with a frown.

"You think he's actually having a medical emergency?" Rodimus asked, sounding genuinely concerned. 

"I mean, maybe," Drift said, watching as Whirl shoved Tailgate away when he tried to climb in the seat next to him. "Maybe he's just having some kind of depressive episode. He can be a bit emotionally volatile." 

"Man, it would be nice if we had a therapist on board, huh? What ever happened to those?" Rodimus grumbled, "Ugh. He's not being destructive or anything. I don't want to turn it into a fight." 

"I don't think you'll have the chance," Drift said as he stood. Cyclonus had grabbed Whirl and yanked him out of his seat, leaving a smear of energon where he had been sitting. Whirl snarled in protest and yanked Cyclonus onto the floor as he tried to push himself back up. 

"Primus dammit," Rodimus swore, exasperated, "Can we really not have one day without a fight?" 

"Get off me!" Whirl snapped, grabbing the table by one claw and shakily trying to push himself all the way up. He clung awkwardly to his midsection with his gangly right arm, poorly covering a weeping injury. 

"Whirl, please! We just want to help!" Tailgate cried, and Whirl backed away as if he were afraid letting the minibot touch him might set him on fire. 

"I think you _do_ need to go down to medbay," Rodimus interjected, trying to move between Cyclonus and Whirl. The rest of the bar was staring, clearly amused by the drama. 

"No!" Whirl snapped, "it'll close up on its own! Leave me alone!" 

"That's outrageous," Rodimus balked, "that needs to be welded shut. What even _happened_ ? Did someone _shoot_ you? Why do you keep getting into trouble like this?" 

Drift stared at the impact with a frown and unblinking optics. It definitely was _not_ a gunshot or lazerfire. It was, for all it's messiness, a precise incision, and he knew exactly what it had been to remove.

"I'll take him back to his habsuite," Drift said, the suddenness of the statement causing the other participants in the debate to turn and stare at him.

"He _needs_ to go to the medical bay!" Cyclonus continued to protest, but Drift raised a servo quickly to stop him.

"He doesn't have to go anywhere he doesn't want to. But he can't bleed all over the seats. I'll take him back to his habsuite."

"Drift, I dunno…" Rodimus began, looking at his friend with apprehension. Drift cast him a silent sidelong glance, flicking the undercurrent colour of his optics to magenta- _trust me._ He noticed a twitch in Rodimus's finials as he picked up on the subtle change and set his jaw. "Alright. I guess he just needs to sleep it off."

"You must be joking," Cyclonus started, but Whirl stumbled to his pedes, wavering like a drunk, though his servos were empty.

"I can get back to my room my own damn self," he spat, taking a step toward the door and stumbling. Drift was quick to grab him by the arm and vault him over one shoulder.

"Allow me," Drift said, and Whirl coughed static.

"Whatever," he relented.

"Is this what we're seriously do-" Cyclonus started, but stopped when Rodimus put a servo on his shoulder and nodded at Drift as he led the larger mech out of the room. Cyclonus watched uncertainly, before the door shut behind them, and Drift and Whirl were alone in the hall. Drift turned left.

"My room is that way, idiot," Whirl slurred, tugging on Drift's arm.

"We aren't going to your room," Drift said, tugging him limply back, "We are going to mine." 

"Heh, I didn't think I'd see the day," Whirl laughed, vocalizer warbly, "Have I really tempted you that much with my extra hole, huh?"

"You've given yourself estrous poisoning," Drift said flatly, and waited while Whirl reset his vocalizer.

"Ah," he said finally, "Yeah."

"Did you get the shunt out?" Drift asked.

"Yeah," Whirl said, defeated, "It didn't help much." 

"How old is it?"

"I dunno," Whirl admitted, "I got it secondhand."

"Why don't you just get one from the medbay?" Drift groaned, "Why are you buying black market used shunts?"

"They don't make 'em in my size no more," Whirl mumbled, "Not since the A-04 upgrades rolled out standard."

"You could have had your frame updated. Or just had the damn thing removed," Drift sighed, fumbling with the keypad to him and Ratchet's room.

"Don't want nobody messing with my frame no more," Whirl rasped, even more quietly than before, "Specially not them parts."

Drift waxed silent for a moment, before the door slid open. "Fair enough."

He helped Whirl limp over to and then collapse upon the berth, and what was a sizeable frame for two standard sized mechs still barely contained Whirl's gangly limbs. Drift flipped him onto his back and swatted his claws away from where the plating had been pried open like a tin can around his midsection. 

"I thought your junxy was the doctor, huh?" Whirl wheezed, sounding tired, but he made no move to pull away.

Drift grabbed a rag and wiped the hardening energon away from the area, "I'm not a doctor. But I've done this before." 

"What, for yourself?" 

"Me, my friends," Drift said, tossing the rag to the side, "You might remember arresting some of them."

"Yeah," said Whirl, looking askance, "I do." 

"I'm disconnecting the sensornet here, alright? Don't move," Drift said, pulling a knife from his subspace and peeling back abdominal plating to pull out a cathead connector. "This was one of the flight frame 74s, right? The kind that plug right into the gestation chamber?"

"Yeah."

"They stopped making these for a reason," Drift mumbled, "they don't _defuse_ hormones, they _store_ them. If it breaks, it floods your system and poisons you."

"I know," Whirl grumbled, "I ain't never had one break before." 

"You've broken one now," Drift told him, picking out broken pieces of the shunt from between Whirl's gestation chamber and his T-Cog, "There's estrous fluid _everywhere_. You're gonna need a full fluid change." 

"Ugh," Whirl groaned, like a frustrated wild animal, "Just let me die."

"No."

Drift pulled out more fractured metal pieces and set them to the side in silence. 

"I'm gonna have to go down to medbay and get patched, ain't I," Whirl sighed, finally, sounding defeated. 

"Yup," Drift confirmed, "Figured you would feel better with a little old-school treatment first, though."

"Yeah," Whirl admitted, "Guess you was right."

"Often am," Drift mused. 

"This a buymech thing, too?" Whirl asked, "You gotta fix this slag a lot?"

"Stop calling me a buymech," Drift said, "You know it's rude."

"Nobody taught me how to do this right," Whirl continued, "But I guess I didn't have as many friends as you did."

Drift paused, looking up at Whirl's helm, which hid his optic from him, facing straight up toward the ceiling.

"A friend named Gasket pulled my first bad shunt out," Drift said, resuming his work, "He gave me a lot of slag for not checking it before I installed it. Bad shunts were pretty common back then. It felt like every month _someone's_ failed." 

"I didn't have one back then," Whirl commented, "It was right after they burned down my store, you know. I knew I could get work if I went down to the Senate, you know, I'm a big aft flight frame covered in guns, I was basically built to be an enforcer, but like- I didn't wanna be nothin' I was built for."

Whirl was silent for a moment, and Drift finished cauterizing the injection points along Whirl's weld-scarred gestation tank wordlessly.

"Wasn't no good at that neither, though," Whirl mumbled, "But I ain't never been good at nothin' else, so." 

"You're very good at getting into trouble," Drift quipped, wiping off his servos on a cloth.

"That's true," Whirl nodded, seemingly amused, "I'm pretty good at bein' a jackaft, too."

"You are," Drift agreed, "But we are all more than our worst moments."

"S'pose so."

"Cyclonus and Tailgate seemed very concerned about you."

"Yeah," Whirl hiked his shoulders inward like he wanted to grimace.

"How about we ask them to meet us down at medbay, so we can get you that fluid change, huh?"

"Yeah," sighed Whirl, "Let's do that, then." 


End file.
